Fault Lines
by Raggazzed12
Summary: A collection of one-shots, Deamus centric. None are continuations of each other, mostly just little snapshots at points in lives. (All are to be written for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Forum.)
1. Beat Out

**A/N: I return to the scene of the chaos known as writing fanfiction with something more this summer, and that is helped by having rejoined the forum mentioned above. This starts off the collection I'll be keeping on here to organize the stories that will be coming out of the forum's assignments. It'll be mostly Deamus writing this time 'round I expect, at least with this little collection here.**

 **Prompts:**

 **Past Stone: Apatite - Write about someone dwelling or thinking deeply over an event from the past.**

 **Written for: Lithomancy, Assignment #15, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Challenges and Assignments**

 **Word Count: 1,406**

* * *

Scratching one arm absentmindedly, Seamus did not move his head from where he had hung it however many minutes ago. There had been something he had needed to do…

 _There is too much to do these days…_

With a careful hand, he picked up the pen that lay beside him. If there was going to be a storm of thoughts in his head, he might as well write them down. Writing was calming, much more calming than what Seamus was preparing to go though at the time.

Taking the book up in his hands, he opened the well-used pages. A trip to a store would be mandatory soon, the pages were running down. Literal years were piled in this journal of sorts, after all.

Seamus pushed the pages apart and came to one of the last few pages that was actually free.

And then, he began to write, in the silence of the living room.

 _I've not done much for a while about all the things floating around my head, but people say it's a therapy, this writing down one's feelings things. And I've said that many times myself. Which makes it mostly true, I guess._

 _Today marks the two year anniversary of the beginning of the torture that I got for a year. It was the first day I ever felt the fiery breath of the curse that was used so much then. It seems ridiculous that I can't stop feeling it even now, isn't it?_

 _People who've never experienced it don't understand. Every time I've tried to explain that, yes, it does hurt to think about the first time I had to experience_ their _idea of detention, someone always says "Oh, but doesn't it get old eventually?" They have no idea that it leaves more than just millions of physical scars._

 _I remember it vividly._

 _I walked into that room completely unprepared. I had not been warned, in fact, most of the school was unaware that_ they _would resort to violence. We had no idea that anyone would do such a thing - well, mostly no idea. Maybe it was obvious from the glares that they sent constantly that they highly disliked children, but I don't think any of us had any idea that things were possibly going to get worse._

 _So I walked in, and_ they _looked at me like I was stupid. God, I was so stupid. I couldn't do anything to save myself. I was subjected to more than the rest of the student body as a whole had ever been subjected to in less than 15 minutes._

 _And I just... took it._

 _I can't believe I just took it._

 _I definitely couldn't believe such a thing after it was over, when I realized what it had done to me. What_ they _were still doing to me. What continued to happen as I put up more of a resistance shield._

 _People commented. People watched. People were always concerned as I pushed it farther and farther._

 _But that first day was such a shock, enough that I don't think I've gotten over it even now. Even now, two years later, I can still vividly remember the glare on_ his _face as_ she _took over the job with_ her _wand. I can still remember trying to clamp down my teeth because I didn't want to seem weak and scream._

 _The pain my jaw was in afterwards...it was mental. I didn't know what I was doing, because my body was flopping all over the place. And when I finally allowed myself to scream with the pain racing everywhere, I didn't want to ever see_ them _again._

 _I screamed more than I had ever screamed. I'm not sure if your neck muscles are supposed to feel like that. I certainly don't think they are. It felt like each one was being ripped apart by an evil beast that was determined to kill faster than any other beast._

 _When it stopped, it took a moment, and then it would start again. And people act like I shouldn't be upset over this occurrence as the years pass…_

 _I tried to explain it to people last year. Why I was so upset that I couldn't get out of bed in the morning, why I wasn't going to go out with them on that day. Why it took me a week to get myself back together after that day, why I wasn't eating, sleeping, drinking; why I wasn't really all there._

 _And still they said I was being ridiculous. It's a miracle I got out of bed this morning, even if this is all only being written on the floor of my living room. It's a miracle that there's someone out there who does understand, even if all he can offer is comfort._

 _But people are not going to ever understand, are they? I can't say that it's smart to be this mournful about something that seems so small in comparison with some of the detentions I suffered that year._

 _This one simply looms more. It is the most vivid in my mind, it is the most dangerous and prickly of all memories. And I hate it._

 _Yet I've accepted that this is what the rest of my life will be like. There will be this one day, this one week, where things are not normal. I don't see why no one else can understand, they did go through that battle, it's not as if that was significantly less wounding. Perhaps it takes living in my shoes or having that specific experience to pull a person into a full-on stage of depression about it._

 _I guess it does._

He had to stop - lifting a hand to his face, Seamus felt the wetness of his cheek in surprise; and shame. He had been crying as he wrote. He hadn't even _realized_ he was crying until there was a wet spot on his paper that hadn't been there before.

He instead found himself staring blankly at the paper, feeling that all thoughts were emptied, that there was no more flow in his hand to keep himself going. And he put the book down. With the pen now in the binding of the page he had been writing in, he weakly stood up. And he slowly, slowly, backed away from it, collapsing into the couch behind him.

There was a need for all of this, was there? Seamus was finally writing the nonsense he knew he was destined to. This was the not most pointless idea he'd ever had. Maybe it wasn't that people didn't care, it was just they didn't understand was all.

And what did it matter that he hadn't even eaten breakfast that morning? Some days one could skip all of that.

"Shay?" He jumped at hearing another's voice.

Seamus did not reply, he did not break his gaze at the notebook that now contained something more in it. He could only think about how awfully cruel the day was beginning to feel.

Footsteps - and then, someone was sitting beside him on the couch. There was no response from him still, despite the calming presence that sat there. This was the only person on the planet who understood the way he was feeling today, and Seamus couldn't even _look_ at him.

"Shay…" Gentle arms wrapped around him, body being moved until he was practically sitting on top of the other man. He was finally forced to look Dean in the face, despite the fact that he didn't want to.

"I...I'm sorry…" He felt tears around his eyes again as they began to run down his face once more.

"Don't be sorry, don't be sorry. We can stay in today. We can stay in for as long as you need it," Dean was shaking his head, but Seamus hardly saw it.

"Thank you." He whispered.

They would proceed to sit there for as long as Seamus needed it. He hadn't even realized he needed it, but now that he was wrapped in Dean's arms, he _knew_ he needed it. And although the tears didn't stop for a while, neither of them cared for it. Dean might've cried along with him at one point; he wasn't sure.

All that Seamus was sure of was despite his fears about the day ahead of him, love and acceptance would always beat out every inch of the negativity surrounding it.


	2. Roller Coaster

**Task 3: Write about a wizard being introduced to muggle technology.**

 **A/N: For this one, we're gonna pretend Seamus was born into a full on wizarding family rather than one with a Muggleborn father. Makes the task more accessible.**

 **Seamus and Dean go on a date to an amusement park. (Probably the fluffiest thing I've ever written, to be honest.) For some reason, at the break, (so, like halfway through) the point of view changes. It starts with Seamus, ends with Dean. I didn't want to keep the break, but then it added a new texture to this little story so I think it works. (If it doesn't...oh well ;))**

 **Word Count: 1,117**

Seamus stared in awe at the objects that towered above them, the rails that appeared to be on stilts and the … _things_ whizzing around on top of them. _Had that one just gone upside down?_ He had to take a deep breath to gather his wits about him for a moment. This was what Muggles called entertainment?

Beside him, a deep chuckle sounded from the very amused man holding his hand. In reply, he looked at Dean with a joking glare. "What do _you_ have to say about it?"

"You're adorable when you stare up at tall objects, hon," the darker man shrugged, "Guess it was simply natural instinct to laugh."

Saying nothing about the suggestive words that made him sigh internally, Seamus pulled them both forward a little more.

"Let's get on one of these things already. 'm ready to be dazzled by your ability to talk about muggle creations, Dean!"

They made their way through the immense amounts of crowds - as it was a weekend, Dean had had to explain earlier that morning that they would be waiting in multiple lines no doubt - to the line up for something that looked like it went in the water. It looked refreshing after having to endure the intense heat coming off of the pavement for the past half hour of getting in. He watched it for a moment, and then gave a distinct nod.

"Yep, this is it."

"The flume? You sure?" Dean wiggled his eyebrows, but Seamus just snorted and nodded again.

"Yes."

"Oh, _alright._ " He said it in a silly dramatic voice, faking a groan.

"Before we go on: we made a deal, you have to tell me what this does and how it works." Seamus teased, poking at Dean with his free hand.

"Well, it runs on a track, and there's water. And when it goes up to the top, you go around, and at the end of the roundabout, it drops you, and you get wet. I'm not sure what else there is." The man sighed a little, obviously regretting his deal. Seamus had made it since he'd never been to an amusement park before, and he demanded to know how it all worked without magic. "And an engine, of course, which is what gets it up the track and back down again."

"Great going there, babe, that's one tally for you." He said in a hushed voice, which made Dean shake his head a little. "It'll add up."

"Good to know."

The line was long indeed, but worth the wait. Once Seamus was on and riding it, he decided there was nothing better than the flume. Despite not having ever experienced anything else he demanded they ride it at least a few more times - and that was how Dean ended up riding the flume at least five times that day.

%

It was the rollercoaster that caught the small Irishman's attention next. Dean tried to warn him that a rollercoaster could be risky and too much for someone's first time at an amusement park, but he would hear none of it. With a great sigh, Dean boarded the cart with little hope of survival. He'd been informed that he was not allowed to spoil how it worked until they got off it.

As Seamus let out several screams of joy, riding up and down and up and down again, Dean was sure this was probably more worth it than he'd originally thought it was; even if his stomach was speaking otherwise as they got off.

"Alright, Dean, how does this one get it's joyous momentum?"

"Motors again, with the help of gravity, I assume," even if he was sick to his stomach, he couldn't help but smile back at Seamus, "Although I'm not sure what keeps it going up and down like that."

"I find it fascinating that you even know how a motor works." Seamus said in a quieter tone, still wearing his smile despite the way he was speaking.

"I grew up thinking that was all I needed to know. Not much different from you knowing all about magic before you even came to Hogwarts." He laughed, gripping Seamus' hand a little harder as they walked through the cobbled streets of the park. A smile was given to him in return.

The sounds of screaming children would echo in their ears for the next few hours, in which Dean made sure to explain all he could about individual rides that Seamus demanded going on. The sounds of a screaming Seamus and a roaring Dean were also a common sound. Some of the rides Dean never would have done if he'd had any say in it were done purely out of the love he found echoed within when Seamus' eyes sparkled as he looked up at a ride that was potentially threatening. There was no way to avoid explaining it to him as they stood in line - Seamus had decided he wanted to know everything there was to know right before the ride after getting off of one that made them both quite sick - and Dean did his best.

Sunlight diminishing bit by bit, Seamus decided they needed to get into one of the restaurants that was located in the park for good measure and a successful evening (in his mind). Dean could only go along with it, smirking at the way Seamus admired the alcohol at the bar: alcohol may have been the only thing Seamus understood in that entire park, and _boy_ did he understand it.

Getting drunk was strictly forbidden, but he trusted in Seamus to maintain a small balance of drinks in such a public place, and he was right in assuming so. Their dinner passed without incident. It was the nicest dinner - even in an amusement park - that they'd both had in a while. Work schedules were hard to deal with during the year.

As they rode one last ride - another roller coaster, not Dean's first choice - and finished off the evening staring at the sky as they walked back to the parking lot to Apparate in a decent spot, Dean looked over at the shorter man with a smile. "Do you feel satisfied with the knowledge you've gained today, sir?"

"Oh, yes," the other gave a wiry look, raising an eyebrow, "And now, we get to go home and celebrate those tallies you've been chalking up. You'll get your reward."

Feeling a shiver of pleasure at that "threat", Dean only looked at Seamus in a knowing way before grabbing the other's hand and Disapparating on the spot. He was ready to reap the day's spoils and to fall asleep in the arms of his lover.


	3. Complete

**A/N: I return with another story.**

 **I don't exactly normally write in the "Fairytale" style, but I tried it out. I'm not entirely sure how well it went, but you can be the judge of that.**

 **The Fairy herself appears as a small creature, a little larger than the size of what many think of as fairies but not too much larger - certainly not human size. She also always appears as an elderly woman (to fall into the cliche more, of course) yet doesn't age past that point or anything. Just wanted to clear those things up before anyone's like super confused as they read it.**

 **Written for Performing Arts.**

 **Task 3: Write a story with a popular trope (see below trope list)**

 **Fairy Godmother**

 **Word Count: 869**

Once upon a time, there lived a young Irish wizard named Seamus Finnigan.

All his life, Seamus was certain of three things: He was a born pyrotechnic; His mother cared for him more than anything she had ever cared for; His Fairy Godmother was the most helpful person he'd ever met. Esmeralda - as she was called by he - was a good assist for rough times, as he had found.

Younger Seamus always had a carefree nature about him, and so at that stage of his life, most of Esmeralda's days were spent trying to keep him out of trouble. She was always there to stop an explosion or to cease his careless acts of clumsiness.

At the ripe young age of 11, as was mandatory for all young wizards, Seamus was sent to the school known as Hogwarts. Esmeralda, of course, came along with him. She had always been secret to him and had remained so for a while; that was, until he met Dean Thomas.

The kind fairy soon found there was always _something_ about Seamus' best friend that she could admire. He was a kind child, quiet and reserved most of the time - and as far as Esmeralda knew, he was very much opposite of Seamus. There was a balance between them that helped keep Seamus out of trouble.

As the years went by, Esmeralda watched both grow up hidden in her little corners and nooks and crannies. No one would have suspected for a moment that Seamus had such a caretaker in his life, for he never seemed that type of person. No one ever asked him about that _thing_ they saw flying out of the corner of their eye when he was around simply because no one ever really noticed it.

It was with Esmeralda's help that at the end of their 6th year, Seamus asked Dean Thomas to be more than a friend. She told him the right words to say when he felt it, as she had known of the feelings he held for the other wizard for a long while now. The fairy watched with pleasure when Dean admitted to such attraction as well, and was quite happy with the final result.

It was with Esmeralda's suggestion to Seamus and then her silent smile to Dean that helped the two overcome the fear they held in the coming year and strengthened the ability of the tall silent one to leave the short, loud one behind. She could not show her sadness at the separation since she was too busy comforting Seamus as the other left him that very night: yet it was quite prominent in her mind.

It was with Esmeralda's meddling in the affairs of several wizards and witches that she would never have wanted to deal with otherwise that she managed to get them back together by the end of the year. Sometimes one's Fairy Godmother needed to do some dirty work with some nasty people in order to make it all better in the end.

She was never called upon by the young Irishman to do any of these tasks, in fact he would never have wished any of them upon her otherwise. But since she did them, Seamus soon felt indebted to her. That was what led to him actually calling upon her for the first time in years; quite a few years after the traumatic seventh year. For a while, she had only been able to watch with unease as the both of them tried to regain normal lives.

It was with great pleasure that she came to him that evening as the fire smoked in the fireplace and the young man looked to her as she sat down on the desk.

"What would you like me to do for you now, Seamus, my dear?" She said as firelight lit up his facial features.

"I would like for you to help me with writing these vows, Esmeralda."

"Vows? You're already considering them? You've only just been engaged - but nonetheless, I will help with these." The kindly old woman chuckled.

"What do I say?"

With a small smile, Esmeralda told him to speak of all of the things Seamus adored about his lover that he had thought and even said to her sometimes when things were quiet and Dean was not around. Each thought was precisely what Seamus seemed to need in that moment, as he no longer shook with such fervent anxiety. She watched him as she wrote all his words down in silence.

Late into the night they sat there as she had begun to talk not long after he seemed to stop - and then, she stopped. While she could always have said more, the fairy saw that Seamus had fallen asleep where he sat.

She would never be done with her tasks to keep the young man from falling into more trouble. She would always be there for him: that was a fact that even she knew was certain.

With a wave of her wand, she made a blanket appear over him, and drifted off to another corner of the house to take rest for the evening. A Fairy Godmother's work was truly never complete.


End file.
